


Bedridden

by m_findlow



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26300428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_findlow/pseuds/m_findlow
Summary: One of the team gets laid low.
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Kudos: 20
Collections: fic_promptly Fills 2016





	Bedridden

It was just turning out to be one of those days. Ianto and Jack had stumbled into their house late after a long day at work. Jack was complaining he felt a bit run down, which came as a surprise to Ianto, since Jack was an inexhaustible ball of energy most days. For him to admit being tired was a landmark event. And in truth he did look worn out and a little lacking in colour. A good night's sleep ought to perk them both back up.

A good night's sleep was not to be. Not two hours later, both their phones were bleeping madly, signaling a rift alert. Why did weevils have to be so nocturnal? Ianto pushed Jack to get him to move out of bed, but he didn't budge.

'Come on, the sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can get back to bed.'

'Don't feel good,' Jack mumbled.

'Yeah, well, neither do I. Now stop fussing.'

Jack refused to move, or more to the point, couldn't. After Ianto had quickly dressed, he turned on the light and saw Jack properly for the first time. He really did look awful and pale. Ianto rested a hand on his forehead and felt the feverishly hot sensation travel through his palm. 'Okay, I'm calling Owen to come check you over. In the meantime, I'll go and sort out our local pest problem.'

Owen wasn't pleased at being called in the middle of the night for a case of man flu, but Ianto was adamant that it wasn't in Jack's head, arguing with him over the phone in the car as he drove out to the location where the rift alert had gone off, and that he didn't really want to leave Jack alone whilst he was gone if something was wrong with him.

He'd hoped it would be a simple bag and tag, knock the weevil out and take it back to the hub, microchip it, and let it sleep off the disorientation of landing in a new city. Tomorrow night they could release it somewhere near a known weevil colony and hope that it got adopted it into the fold. Instead it turned out to be two weevils - aggressive ones at that - which gave him a considerable chase for several blocks. He thought about calling in one of the others to assist, but by the time they'd get here, the two weevils would probably be long gone. 

Eventually he managed to corner one, and with a deft move, sneak under its clawed arm and inject the sedative. The other was far trickier, and definitely the nastier of the pair. He was lucky not to have his head lopped off in the process, finally having to shoot it in self defence, unable to get close enough to sedate it without being mauled to death in the process; something Jack wouldn't thank him for.

Weevil retrievals were usually fairly simple to clean up as well, but that was usually accounting for the fact that there were two of them to lug the heavy beast into the back of the car. With just him on his own, it took far longer than he liked, especially having to drag two weevils. He supposed he could have come back for the dead one, but it would be dawn in an hour or so, and he didn't want to risk someone from the general public finding it.

Fours hours after he'd left home, he finally found a spare moment back at the hub to call Owen and find out how Jack was. He simply hadn't had time to even think about it up until now, hoping that no word from Owen could only be a good thing.

'How is he?'

'Shingles,' Owen replied.

'Shingles?' Ianto replied, confused. 'Isn't that like chicken pox?'

'Yep. How he's never had it before is beyond me, but he's pretty weak. Probably be out of action for a few days at least.'

'Okay, I'll stay home today and keep an eye on him. You guys will be right?'

'Yeah, piece of cake.'

Jack didn't look any better when Ianto finally returned, the first glimmers of pale morning light streaming through their window and casting a greyness over his already grey pallor.

'Hey,' he said, sitting on the edge of the bed, stroking Jack's hair.

Jack barely uttered a response, keeping his eyes closed, too tired to open them, even for Ianto.

'Doctor's orders for bed rest. Not the kind I'm sure you we're hoping for, but it'll have to do. Can I get you anything?'

'Nmm,' Jack hummed, which Ianto took to be a no.

'Okay, well I'm here if you need me; just going to grab a quick shower first.'

After the blessed few minutes of hot, steamy water, Ianto realised that the same might do wonders for Jack.

'How about a nice hot shower?' he suggested, returning to the bedroom to finish towelling off. 'Or I could run you a bath.'

'Too tired,' Jack replied.

'Okay, cariad. Why don't I just grab you a nice warm flannel, instead.'

As he began gently wiping yesterday's grime from Jack's skin, he saw for the first time the angry little red spots. They were everywhere, over his chest, running up and down his arms, all over his stomach, neck and back. They hadn't been there yesterday, but now they were just about everywhere. No wonder he felt knocked for six. 'How's that. Better?'

Jack didn't respond, trying to sleep all the while Ianto was cleaning him. When he finally did open his eyes he looked like he was straining to get up enough energy to speak. Then Ianto's phone rang.

'Owen, what is it? No, no I already called the ambassador's office first thing this morning to cancel the conference call. Brussels? A month? Can't we reschedule again? Fine, put him through. Yes, Mr Ambassador, this is Ianto Jones. Yes, I did want to postpone our call. No, Captain Harkness is quite ill. No, no I understand,' he said, pulling himself up off the bed. 'Yes, I have been fully briefed...' he said, his voice disappearing down the hall as Jack fell back into a hazy sleep.

Jack woke to the sound of Ianto's voice drifting back up the hall. He wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, but it felt like he hadn't slept for about a month. When Ianto arrived back in their bedroom he managed the barest of weak smiles. 'Hey.'

'Hey,' Ianto replied, perching on the edge of the bed to readjust pillows. Then his phone started ringing again. 'Sorry,' he apologised, standing up take it out of his pocket. 

'Yes, Owen. What? No, I can't. Yes, I know I'm closest. Look, I've just spent the last hour and a half on the phone with the British ambassador to France trying to explain why we can't patrol the Bristol Channel properly and stop stuff slipping over to mainland Europe. Can't you get Gwen to pick it up?' He huffed loudly. 'Why not? Well, unless you'd like to come over here and look after Jack.' He pinched the bridge of his nose. 'Fine, whatever. I'll see you in a bit.' He clapped the phone shut. 'I have to go pick up that shipment of Turanian power units. Apparently Owen is too busy leading Torchwood, or at least thinking he's leading it, God forbid. Will you be okay?'

'M'fine,' Jack said nestling into the pillow a little deeper.

Ianto leaned over and kissed him. 'Be back soon.'

Ianto's day went from bad to worse as another call came through whilst he was on the road. Gwen couldn't find something she wanted from the archives, and Ianto couldn't understand why it was suddenly so important that she have it right now. She was insistent, and it was driving him quietly nuts trying to give her directions, based on his photographic memory of the archive vaults. His temper was beginning to fray at the edges, partly from lack of sleep, and partly from knowing that he should have been elsewhere, looking after Jack, just like he had done for Ianto so many times before.

'Gwen, if you can't find it, don't worry about it. I'm halfway to the hub as it is. I'll get it for you when I get there. Unless of course you think the world is going to implode between now and then? No? Good. I'll see you in fifteen. Argh!' he cried, tossing the phone onto the empty car seat.

Two hours later, he'd finally managed to keep everyone else supplied, restocked, and able to get on with their day, including an audacious request from Owen to pick them up lunch on his way in. Honestly, what did they think he was? He hadn't even had breakfast, let alone worry about lunch. It was however an excuse to go and buy some freshly made chicken soup from a local cafe. Jack would appreciate that. If he ever made it back home, that is.

He came in through the door, laden with bags full of soup and crusty bread, trashy magazines, for Jack when he got bored, which would be a given, and a handful of other supplies, including fresh tea leaves, honey, lemon and oranges. According to Owen, any over the counter meds wouldn't do anything for him. All he needed was rest. And probably a little TLC.

'I'm so, so sorry,' he apologised. 'Worst home carer, ever. But I brought soup.'

Jack tried to look happy to see him, but there was an odd look on his face. 'Bathroom.'

'Huh?'

'Bathroom,' Jack repeated, struggling and squirming in bed.

'Oh, you need a hand getting up. Hang on.' Ianto leaned over and tried to help Jack sit up. He was like a rag doll, and every movement for Jack felt like he had run a marathon, twice. 'Come on, help me out here,' Ianto said, struggling with the uncooperative limbs.

Jack was trying, really he was, but every muscle felt like jelly and he could barely hold his eyes open. 'Don't think I can stand up.'

'That's okay,' Ianto said, 'I can hold you up,' trying to get arms underneath Jack to get him up from the edge of the bed. In his pocket his phone began trilling again. 'Sodding hell!' he said, retrieving it and quickly checking the caller ID. 'Tosh, I love you but now is really not a good time,' he said, almost dropping Jack onto the floor with his efforts trying to juggle both.

She was still trying to speak to him on the other end of the line as he was frantically trying to get Jack up. He was ridiculously heavy and incapable of holding himself up in any meaningful way, even with Ianto's help. It was useless. In the end, he dumped the phone on the bed, and reached for an empty water bottle still on the nightstand from yesterday. 'I know it's not dignified, but I think we're out of options,' he said, holding it out for Jack who could barely keep his head up, let alone use the bathroom proper. Even watching him try to hold the bottle, it seemed like he wasn't going to be coordinated enough even to manage.

'Dear God, the things I do for love,' he said, taking over.

'Ianto, Ianto!' He could hear Tosh called out his name loudly over the abandoned phone, even from his distance. 'Is everything alright?'

'We're fine,' he yelled back, trying not to think about his present situation too much. 'Call you back!'

When everything was done, he helped a grateful Jack back into bed, pulling the covers over him.

'Thank you,' he mumbled.

'You're welcome. Fancy some soup?'

'Maybe.'

Even the soup was a chore, with Ianto having to deliver spoonful after tedious spoonful. Jack tried his best but it seemed his appetite wasn't nearly as good as he'd hoped, and after a few mouthfuls, Ianto couldn't convince him to have any more.

'You need to eat something,' Ianto insisted.

'Maybe later,' he replied, head lolling tiredly on the pillow. 'So tired.'

'Okay, I'll be here if you need me. I remember having chicken pox as a kid. I don't think I was that sick, but the spots itched like crazy.'

Jack didn't seem to care about being itchy. In fact, he didn't seem to care about much of anything at the moment. It worried Ianto to see Jack this lethargic and laid low.

Ianto set himself up in their bedroom, armed with his laptop, his phone on silent, but still wandering out of the room every now and then to answer it. Hauling the laptop one handed out into the hall with him, it seemed that whatever case they happened to be working back at the hub, required a lot of historical research, and not all of it had yet been transferred into the electronic archives, leaving him to direct them to his manual records and locations where the old paper files were still being kept. He kept imaging the enormous pile of files that would be dumped ungraciously back on his desk once they were finished, leaving him to put them all away, not to mention the mess they were probably making of the rest of the various filing cabinets, stores of microfiche and old boxes. Every time he thought he'd stop for a break, another email would ping in his inbox or phone call buzz in his back pocket. He found himself snacking on Jack's now cold soup whilst he slept, checking him over every so often in case he needed anything, and somewhat glad for the company.

By the end of the day he was completely exhausted himself, having been up for the last day and a half with barely two hours sleep in between. When he was finally certain that the team had gone home for the night, and that they wouldn't be be hassling him for any more items, he trudged wearily into the bedroom. Jack was dozing, his temperature having come down slightly he noticed, as he replaced the washcloth on his forehead. It didn't look like Jack was going to be up and about any time soon.

He crawled into the bed and snuggled up next to him, embracing his spotty lover, pulling the covers back over, shutting his eyes gratefully.

Perhaps tomorrow they could both call in a sick day. Everyone else did. After neglecting his charge all day, it was the least he could do to make sure Jack was on the road to recovery, and a day off for himself wouldn't be so bad either. The team would just have to learn how to cope without the pair of them.

He reached over, switching his phone off completely. If the world was ending and they needed him, he was fairly certain he wouldn't need his phone to let him know, and if it wasn't the end of the world, he might just need to make sure that for the person who dared call, it definitely would be.


End file.
